Day of Victory
by wildegreenlight
Summary: Some days are more important than you can even imagine.


**A/N: May 2nd is very special day, not only in the HP universe, but in my personal life. I like to think that JK wrote it that way in honor of my birthday. So, I think you might say that my being a Romione shipper was written in the stars.**

 **I hope you enjoy my little fic. I am exploring a new character (to me) that just so happens to share my birthday. As always, you will find copious amounts of our king, Ron Weasley.**

There was nothing better than Granma and Granda Weasley's house. It was so full of magic that you could actually feel it; it tickled up your arms and down to your toes. Little Victoire Weasley had been beyond thrilled to discover that her sixth birthday party would be at the Burrow. She had been so excited that she hadn't slept properly in a week: visions of running around the pond with her cousins, watching her uncles and aunts play Quidditch, exploring all the hidden corners of the house. She was surprised to find that all the gifts she was bound to get were an afterthought. Presents were nice, but the really great thing about her birthday was having all the people she loved most in one place. In fact, when Fleur, balancing Baby Louis on her hip, had gone in to wake her daughter that morning, she found her fully clothed and ready to go.

Granda Arthur had swooped her up in his arms when she bounded out of the fireplace, spinning her enthusiastically around before whispering in her ear, "Granma Molly has something special for you in the kitchen."

The kitchen, as always, smelled of warm scones; she breathed in the earthy scents of cinnamon and allspice. Her grandmother was busy in the pantry, but quickly turned around when Victorie came around the corner. "There's my sunshine! Aren't you the prettiest little birthday girl in the whole world! Come give me a hug!"

Hugging Granma Molly was the best. She was smooshy in the middle which always made Victorie feel like she was wrapped in pile of blankets cast with a warming charm. She loved Gigi Delacour, but she was all sharp, cool edges, just like her posh house. A house where she didn't let you take biscuits out of the kitchen, but here biscuits were welcome anywhere!

It had been perfect. All of her uncles and aunts were there, even the mysterious Charlie whom she'd been scared of when she was younger. He always smelled of dragon smoke, and she had secretly thought he was in reality a dragon himself. But this past Christmas he had given her a toy dragon and taken her outside to show her his patronus: a larger version of the stuffed one he'd made her gift.

To top it off, Aunt Ginny promised her that she could hold baby Albus all by herself as soon as he woke up from his nap.

Yes, it had all been perfect until that horrible Teddy Lupin had ruined it. As she ran up flight after flight of stairs, Victoire could still hear his awful words pounding in her ears. She wanted to get as far away from him as possible as quickly as possible; to the untrained eye it might look like she was running blind, but she had a very specific destination in mind. Everyone had been so busy setting up for the party that she hoped her exit would go unnoticed. She knew that eventually they would miss her, she was the birthday girl after all.

 _Birthday girl._ The words that had been her happiness for weeks, were now a bitter potion that brought a grimace to her tear-streaked face. When she had reached the top landing, Victorie opened the door to her favorite room at the Burrow. Inside it was as cozy and bright as an autumn fire. The sloped ceiling made her feel secure, it was like the room itself were trying to embrace her. Throwing herself down on the bed, her tiny fist gripped the Cannons quilt that she knew was still her Uncle Ron's favorite. In fact, this room was a lot like him: bright and warm and cheerful. She would never want to hurt any of her other uncles' feelings, but Ron was most definitely her favorite. It wasn't only because he always had a chocolate frog his pocket, even though that was pretty great. No, Uncle Ron, unlike the rest, never talked down to her, never treated her like what she thought didn't matter.

"Mind if I join you?" It was almost as if she had summoned him; it was so like him to ask before barging in, even to his own room. Most adults didn't do that, they told; they didn't ask. Not unless it was a question they already knew the answer to _Who spilled paint on the rug?_ or it was a question that didn't really want an answer to _Are you excited to have a little brother?_

"No," she knew that if she told him to go away he would; he might wait in the hall to be sure she was alright, but he wouldn't come in.

He crossed the room, with his tall strides it was only a couple of steps, and sat on the faded rug in front of the bed _criss cross candy floss_ facing her. Even in her depressed state she almost had to laugh at how funny it looked to see his long legs folded up under him.

"What's the story 'Toire ?"

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but crack a tiny smile at his use of her favorite nickname. "Nothing."

He furrowed his brow in her direction, "Doesn't seem like nothing."

She shrugged an _I don't know_ with her shoulders, staring down at her fingers as she pretended to brush lint off the bed.

"I don't know about you, but when I was your age, and even older, I loved holidays: all the people and food and presents. Nothing like the Burrow in full swing, is there?" He was still looking at her, but she could tell he was seeing something from the _way back,_ that's what Granda always called it. He got that look too when he told stories about when he was a boy.

She sniffed, wiping her nose on the back of her fancy dress sleeve, "It's the best."

"Sure is...but sometimes, and now this might be just me, it can be too much, ya know? On more than one occasion, when I was a little one, your Dad would have to come find me...I was usually here," he motioned with his chin up to where she sat.

It was difficult for Victoire to picture Uncle Ron ever being "little" even though Granma Molly had, of course, shown her pictures of all of her uncles and Aunt Ginny when they were babies. He was right about the overwhelming part, and it was a good guess; Uncle Ron was great guesser. Today, however, he had uncharacteristically missed the mark.

"'S'not that," she wasn't quite sure why she didn't go along with his theory, it would definitely be easier.

"Ok. Is it something I can help with?"

"Don't think so...I...well," she took a deep breath, unsure of exactly what to say, "I don't want a birthday!" Her voice rose to a shout, and tears pooled in her blue eyes.

"Well, I am not sure if I can fix that. Everybody has a birthday, but we can talk to your Mom and Dad if you don't want to celebrate it."

That was such an Uncle Ron thing to say. Anyone else would have immediately told her she was being silly or tried to convince her that what she felt was wrong.

"No. I still want _a_ birthday, just not _my_ birthday."

"You mean you just want a different one," she could tell he was close to figuring it all out, he had that look he always got right before he beat her Dad in a chess match. "May I ask why?"

Even though she tried desperately to remain calm, the story spilled out of her like potion from a tipped cauldron, "Because it's the worst day ever! Teddy told me...everything...my birthday is the day," her voice, which had become a shout, suddenly shrunk to a whisper, "the day that...his parents...Uncle Fred...that's the day that...well, you know." She couldn't say it, not out loud, it was awful enough inside her head.

Ron rose to his knees, leaning over and enveloping his niece in a hug. He held her as she began to cry in earnest. For what seemed like hours, he stayed there, letting her simply feel her feelings. When she had come to a pause, he cautiously sat back on his haunches and accioed a handkerchief. As she wiped her face, his warm voice wrapped around her.

"Teddy is right, that was a day full of really horrible things. So many, even our family," his voice caught a little, and Victorie could tell he was trying not to cry, "lost people they loved."

"See why I don't want it to be my birthday?"

"I can understand that, but," he took a deep breath, "as horrible as that day was, it was also a very important day...a day that was full of really great things too."

She looked at him skeptically, "Like what?"

"Well, for starters, Uncle Harry beat the most evil wizard ever. In fact, a lot of really bad people were stopped that day, making the world a safer and better place for all of us, but especially for smart, funny witches like you," he poked her in the side playfully, and she couldn't help but grin.

"But that doesn't take away all the bad stuff."

"You're right, it doesn't take it away, but we can't forget the good stuff just because we don't want to remember the bad, does that make sense?"

It did, but she still wasn't sure.

"Besides, I think that your birthday is perfect for you," she looked at him quizzically, "there aren't many witches who could handle such an important day, but you, well, you're special. When you were born, on this date, you helped our entire family heal. We didn't have to think of the second of May as just a day of battle, but a day of love...a day of victory."

She hugged him again, resting her ear against his broad chest, enjoying the comfort of his beating heart. Maybe her birthday wasn't so bad after all, Uncle Ron had never lied to her before.

"Can we go back down, now?"

"Sure! If you're ready Why don't you wash up, I think it's time for cake, yeah?"

Victoire jumped down from the bed, helping Ron up from the floor. After she emerged from the loo fresh-faced, they continued down the maze of narrow stairs until they reached the bottom. As they turned toward the kitchen, Aunt Hermione appeared in the hall.

"Oh, there you two are, I wondered where you had gotten of to!" her smile was bright although she looked a bit tired, "I would have come up to look for you, but" she patted her very round belly.

Ron reached out and rubbed a large hand where hers had just been and leaned down to kiss his wife's cheek, "Quite alright, 'Toire and I were just having a chat, don't need you and this little bundle on those stairs.'

"Little?" she shook her head and added, "plus, all the books say that walking helps bring about a quicker labor and delivery."

"Well, we still have another week before your due date, so let's not rush it."

"Easy for you to say," Hermione made a grumpy-looking face but she knew her aunt wasn't angry, and she actually smiled as her husband gave her another kiss, this time on the lips.

Overcome with love, Victorie came closer and kissed the bump that would soon be her newest cousin; and even though she whispered, both Ron and Hermione heard her wish, "See you soon baby! Hope your birthday is as great as mine."


End file.
